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LORIETTA 

(A Rhymed Romance) 

By A. U. Thor y-^'^^^^^ ' 



i^/r5i Edition 
Three Dimes, Postpaid 



H. P. F. SlEGEL 

745 West Twenty - eighth Street 

Los Angeles, Cal. 

U. S. A. 



These Rhymes are Dedicated 

To the Home of 
Their Birth 

PASADENA 



Copyright, 1922 

by 
H. P. F. SlEGEL 



Printed by 

Star-News Printing Co. 
Pasadena, California 

1922 

■©C1A687929 

OCT 24 1922 



^^X^y^ (Slorietta 



I. 

A park square it was in which George sat him down. 

Alas, on his brow moved an uneasy frown, 

For the bench he had cumbered the maid passed demurely 

As swiftly as sunshine, and vanished as surely. 

There stole from her eyes just a gleam of arch laughter; 

And he blushed to his roots as he thought of it after. 

What could have been wrong? Had his face been remiss 

Betraying his start at a vision like this? 

Still chafing, he lost her the lane down, for fair — 

When her bloodcurdling scream rent the radiant air. 

And he sprang to his feet, and he raced to her aid 

Where he saw the maid struggling within the dark shade 

Of a cloistered, grey convent, in the arms of a man 

Whose eyes roamed as wild as a Mexican's can. 

His peaked, black sombrero had rolled in the dust 

Where the girl wrestled madly in fright, as she must 

Would she save her fair face from the ravishing kiss 

Of the dark-visioned villain, whose passionate hiss; 

"I adore you, madonna; yes, more than my life. 

No gringo shall thwart me. I'll have you for wife!" 

Stopped strangely and dull; for a fist struck his eye, 

And he sprawled in the dust with a groan and a cry. 

"Caramba," he cursed. And then drawing his knife 

He leaped at the "gringo," "You pay with your life!" 

A swish of bare steel as it pierces the flesh, 

A fall, and a scream, and a moan, — and a rush 

As the devil-hued fellow fled off on his horse 

With laughter that wakened an echo's long course. 

But ere it is spent, hear the rider cry out. 

For a straight-speeding bullet cut short his vain shout. 

He sways in his saddle but clings to the reins, 

And borne by his broncho far safety attains. 

But George, where is he? See him, streaked in red gore, 

His smoking revolver thrown down to the floor. 

Just kneeling beside her, he bravely has succored 

And bathing her temples, her mouth gently puckered. 

While the color that fled when her senses took wing 

Surges back in a flood as if greeting a king. 

And the lips part in smile, and they utter soft sighs 

As the veil drops from vision. And languishing eyes 

Still faint gaze at heaven, at the stars in the sky; 

And the stars they are blue! And George does not see why, 

But he blushes, — and helps her to rise to her feet. 

Then pulls at his hat with a "Charmed, that we meet. 

Permit, senorita, presenting my card." 



And then feels so queer that mere standing seems hard. 

When the convent door opens, and he sinks — but no harm — 

'Gainst a fat, colored cook with a post of an arm. 

She bears him indoors. Then within its cool shade 

She cares for him deftly, distills lemonade, 

Brings wafers and cordials, her own clever making, 

And croons and insists till he tries of her baking. 

And the maid stands aside, her heart trembling, and blushes- 

That George sv/ears an angel keeps watch. And he hushes. 

II. 

And thus they have met, Glorietta and George. 

He of the Law, and she — oh, the scourge! 

She, blooming and white, and with cheeks as of roses, 

With auburn, silk tresses, the dearest of noses. 

She lives in yon dark-town, good Mary her mother 

As swarth as a Nubian. And then her kin-brother, 

Abraham Lincoln, as black as is pitch. 

As evil as Satan, beshrewed as a witch. 

Woe, hers is forever this burning disgrace 

That here she must dwell, — £md white was her face! 

White was her heart, and white was her soul, 

But oh. Lord Almighty! the taint cursed the whole. 

"Honey, yoh pears white, so done yoh no keer. 

The white folks ain't whiter. Forgit what dey fear, 

Yoh just go right 'mongst dem, and think yoh is it. 

Lord, honey, yoh'U wed one no wiser a bit." 

'Tis thus counselled Mary, the best foster-mother. 

Ah, dare she but listen! But there was the other 

As white as the sunlight, as golden as the day! 

How could she belie him? A thousand times, "Nay!" 

And while her white heart thus was struggling, and bled. 

All-blissful in ignorance George was misled. 

III. 

As evening stole upon a sleepy town 

The silvery moon slipped on her shiniest gown, 

And swept its veiling o'er the gathering night 

Scarce broken, but here and there, by ruddy light. 

The tiny sparks proclaiming that at home 

The busy children pored their lesson's tome. 

Yet down the street, St. Gabriel the Divine 

Was sparkling bright with lanterns on a line 

That stretched from side to side across the road. 

Announced "Strawberry Festival," — and glowed. 

And damsels fair, gay swains in store attire. 

The rosy children swarmed about a fire 

That roared thru dancing flames within the yard 

Where tables spread, with laughing maids their guard. 

Red, ripened berries gleamed in crystal bowl. 



And frozen cream, rich gold, to charm the soul. 

For icy dainties with the home-baked cake, 

And glistening eyes a richer harvest take. 

They lure the shyest shekel from its master 

And fill the coffer of the newest pastor. 

George was an usher and in great demand. 

The tale of the assault had roused the land. 

And there were whispers, laughter, sallies bright: 

"Who was the dame for whom he played the knight?" 

But George was deaf. He moved as in a dream. 

Unreal, like mist the merry whirl did seem. 

His brain was cast adrift, his mind at bay. 

But for his duty here he would not stay 

And listen to the chatter all around 

When his whole soul cried out for one sweet sound, 

For just one glance of those remembered eyes 

That shone to him like stars within the skies. 

To flee from here, to be alone, to think — 

Ha! what was that? That sound? Why did he shrink? 

Why did his heart leap? Why his eyes roam wild? 

That was her voice! Voice of his angel child. 

And there she stood demure across the table. 

Her hands held cake and fruit, her shawl of sable, 

And buying still, tho' helpless; — and so fair. 

A dozen gallants search to raid a chair 

When George grasps one from "Fatty," slips a dollar 

(Which buys more cream than ever passed his collar) 

And with a bound, and his most graceful bow 

Presents the seat, with ever crimsoning brow. — 

And thus they met once more. Fate spins her web. 

And what the mind forbade, a heart at ebb. 

Yearning the tide of love, cannot refuse. 

It drinks and soars, tho' nought be left — but bruise. 



But swifter than arrows the moments took wing. 

The pyre showing faintly a garrulous ring 

Of stragglers communing on richly spiced scandal; 

And sleepy, round Luna had slipped her first sandal 

When lo! — was she putting a mask to her face? 

Was she drawing her curtains? Had seen some disgrace? 

Oh no; they forgot, they behold an eclipse. 

And laughingly scatter. Glorietta too trips 

On homeward, enraptured, with George by her side 

Whose seven-league-steps awkwardly measure her stride — 

When a burly, young negro springs up from the ground 

With a snarl: 'Hu, Glorrie, why hain't yoh around? 

Yoh ma has been callin'." But that's all he said 

For, screaming in terror, Glorietta had fled. 

George collared the ruffian to shake like a rat: 

"You black-faced, vile scoundrel, you'll answer for that.'* 



"Oh, mister, please mister; I shoh meant no harm. 
Dis here hain't de lady. Let go of me arm." 
George flung him aside with a sound like a kick. 
And the bellowing African left on the quick. 
But Glorietta has vanished; and George in chagrin 
Stalks home to his chambers, still raging within. 

IV. 

Glorietta had fled. But oh, how it did rankle! 

She rounded her home street, slipped, fell, — sprained her ankle — 

When the Mexican caught her within his strong fold. 

Unconscious, and bore off this treasure of gold. — 

Fernando, the bandit had bided his time 

To trap her. Well aided, pursuing his crime. 

By spies spreading nets, and then passing the word 

To their chief, who kept posted on all that occurred. 

Even Mary's son, Abe, his; as evil a tool 

As Fernando's first cousin, a knave but no fool — 

One Pedro, whose kin, Carmelita, lays claim 

To the heart of Fernando, steeped deeply in shame. 

In the dust she would grovel, pour out her young life 

If he keep but his promise, and make her a wife. 

Fernando, the outlaw, was master and mind 

Of a bloodthirsty band that obeyed him like blind. 

Possessed of large lands too; but none could tell how 

He gained his great wealth, or who did him endow. 

And over black Mary he cast a grim spell 

That nothing could break, be it heaven, be it hell. 

He had threatened with witchcraft, had shown magic power 

In searching her secrets. And fear made her cower. 

For his silence he claimed a reward, her white pearl: 

"She shall be my wife, or to jail with you, girl!" 

And Mary had wailed as if tortured by rack: 

"My honey chile? No, boss; she's mine, she's all black." 

Fernando had sneered: "Oh, for me she will do. 

Carambo, she's whiter than I am or you. 

I'll give you a month that you bring her to time 

And get her well trimmed when the wedding bells chime.'* 

Glorietta had raved: "I will die, ere I wed." 

Then broke out in tears, and had writhed on her bed. 

Black Mary would croon, and would pet her, and pray: 

"Oh, honey, the Lord shoh will find yoh a way. 

I knows dat de white folks just love yoh. Some man 

Will make yoh his sweetheart; then all's well as can." 

Glorietta had hugged her, confessing her heart 

Had been lost as she prayed. But alas, they must part. 

Black Mary won't hear that: "Yoh know I have money. 

If yoh beau's but a swell, tho real pore, — take him, honey. 

And then, if dat Mexican drives me to jail, 

I laugh at him, 'Curse him,' and rot while he fail." 



V. 

Fox Pedro is tossing in uneasy dreams, 

And beating his breast, as if choking with screams. 

The terror is clutching him tight at the throat: 

The murdered white mother he brutally smote 

When she begged for her life in the raid long ago — 

And then rode her down, — and swept on all aglow. 

Her face will not leave him, her eyes sear his brain. 

And he starts in a sweat! It's the clanging, great chain 

Holding grimly the house door to sidings of oak, — 

And the roar of Fernando's stern voice, which him woke. 

He steals thru the halls in the darkness of night 

Where moon beams are blanching his cheeks with their light. 

Unbarring his fortress, the door springs agape 

Revealing Glorietta's wild face and her shape. 

One glance, — and a shriek tears from Pedro, the brave: 

"The corpse! Jesus Christ, has the witch left her grave?" 

Fernando shouts hoarsely: "You idiot, give way. 

To the iron-barred chamber. This guest came to stay." 

With trembling, weak hands he unlocks the thick door, 

And the girl is shut in. And the evil ghosts roar. 

VI. 

The mail was light that George received next morning. 

Yet there was one small missive bore a warning 

Of anxious hours ahead. Some eastern client 

Sent a retainer, asking news reliant 

About estates, of which he thought the title 

Belonged to him. But there were dates most vital 

That he must have recorded fully sworn. 

This work, to George seemed but a hope forlorn. 

And strange, the dates recalled a far-off day 

When some lost uncle and his child, whom they, 

George and his father, had come west to aid 

'Twas claimed, had perished in a border raid. 

Lands too were lost, and fortunes never told — 

Of precious stones, of mines, of silver, gold. 

The dates here stated with the tale outlined 

They dove-tailed and they caused a troubled mind. 

Yes, he must solve this case and win renown. — 

On is his search the country up and down 

For witnesses and papers, documents. 

To find the robber who collects the rents 

Illegally en all these vast estates. 

Ask where he will, a barrier looms that baits 

The metal of his soul with mad vexation; 

Naught tangible, but closed is ev'ry station 

Whence he might trace the clues that must be hunted, 

But like elusive rainbows e'er are shunted. 

'Tw9s near the border that his search took him, 



A sorry village that had caught his whim, — 

A fancy born in his subconscious mind 

That here the trail lay clear and well defined. 

He turned a corner on his weary beast 

And down the dusty street, where in the east 

A squalid inn, shown by a battered sign, 

Announced: "Eat Breakfast Here And Also Dine." 

Inside the hostelry a maid approached 

Who served him well, and by him lightly coached 

Gave answers freely. Asked 'bout this man, Po, 

The mystic owner hunted high and low, 

Replied, that he was cousin to her master, 

Dwelled on estates in Mexico, much vaster 

Than all the lands from which he drew here rent. 

This news at hand, and eagerly intent 

On all details, George ventured for "mine host" 

Who served the spirits — twofold — at his post. 

But while the maid had answered free and frank 

Old, foxy Pedro from all questions shrank. 

He shrugged his shoulders, had no time to spare, 

And made him "Sister Carmelita's" care. 

Her fiery eyes welcomed the dressy stranger 

And beckoned to the yard, and spoke of danger. 

Twilight had fallen. George waited by his horse 

And wondered what his hostess would discourse. 

She came at last in haste; with anxious glances 

Escaping from the hall and riot dances. 

"You seek Fernando Po? What would you know? 

Arrest him for assault some time ago? 

Take heed. This is his camp, and murder's rife. 

Mount, seiior; mount your horse! Ride for your life! 

If e'er Fernando's weal is in the scale, 

I'll pay his ransom, trust me, without fail!" 

And clasping hands above her heaving breast. 

Eyes turned to heaven, she fled to seek her rest. 

But George did not turn heel. Here was the ground 

That held the myst'ry's key. It must be found! 

He hid his horse behind a straggling hedge 

And then crept back, on to a shed's low ledge 

That gave upon a window near the bar 

Where he could see and hear, his eyes roam far. 

Night had descended when a lonely rider 

Dashed thru the darkness, stopped, and — while the "spider" 

Lay watchful of his "parlor," — braved the inn 

From which arose the dancers' raucous din. 

George had a start. The master of the camp — 

It was the Mexican that tried to stamp 

His murder-blade into the young man's body; 

Whom George repaid with shot a trick so bloody. 

Now it grew clear, the anxiety of the maid: 

She feared the Law might take this hot-head blade 



Into its steel embrace for long earned rest. 

George felt that now success would crown his quest. 

Well cheered, Fernando Po received account 

Of the Americano, of his mount. 

And of the waiting wench whose thoughtless chatter 

Had set the gringo thinking of much matter. 

The blood rushed to Fernando's darkening face, 

He snatched the girl from other girls' embrace 

In senseless fury, tore her shawl and lace, 

And beat her till she screamed in shamed disgrace. 

George ground his teeth, he trembled in his rage. 

And heeding naught he leaped into that cage 

Where those bloodthirsty bandits roared applause. 

He struck with fist and butt at grinning jaws, 

Then raised his gun against the devil's brute 

Who mocking kicked his victim with his boot 

And still drew first. — And shattered dropped the gun 

From George's hand, — who in the instant swung 

His body thru the window to the shed. 

Sprang in the dark to where his mount still fed, 

And driving spur into the poor beast's side 

Rode for his life, rode for a place to hide! 

The cursing gang was hot upon his trail. 

"A thousand dollars, if you trim his sail!" 

This ghastly message rings in George's ear, 

Who, feeling hope is far, is without fear. 

The race is hot! Alack, it does not last — 

A tricky sandhole, and all hope is past. 

Lassoed and tied, — return is maddening, swift. 

Judgment is passed with speed and shortest shrift, , 

A rope across the limb the nearest tree. 

And he'll swing "graceful, easy there, and free." 

A roaring guffaw greets this gentle humor 

Of execrable outcasts, life's foul tumor. 

The tree is found, the noose around the neck, — 

A last farewell, — and brawny arms strain, — check! 

A scream! A shot! The rope parts in its middle! 

A foaming horse, a maid — they solve the riddle. 

"Stop!" cries her voice. Oh, sound of angel spheres! 

Glorietta's heavenly notes is what George hears. 

"My life for his, and I'm at your command 

To marry you, Fernando, where you stand!" 

"Not so, carissima," replies the beast. 

"We are good Christians; we must have a priest. 

But free shall go the gringo at your word 

Which be your bond, your oath; as all have heard. 

The bans have published. And in three weeks' time 

I claim the prize, carissima. We climb 

Into the bridal bower, love's sweet nest — " 

But she has fled to escape the cruel jest. 

"The bird broke loose and left her prison pen, 



Caramba! but she's faster caught again! 
Farewell, sweetheart. Adio, senor, the spy. 
The game is played and won. You're free to die 
For others' than for Glorietta's sigh." 

VII. 

George gropes in dark. Unsufferable shame! 

The girl, he loved and for a wife would claim, 

Should sacrifice existence, soul and life 

To save him, and become a bandit's wife. 

Unsufferable shame! — And then a plan 

Before his mind to form and shape began, 

To crush this infamy, this gruesome pact. 

Save her, he worshipped, ere the curtains act. 

He drew a warrant for the man's arrest. 

"Attempted murder," that is his attest. 

A posse started for the meeting ground. 

There was some treachery, — the chief was found! 

The bandit, falling prey to woman's hate 

Whom he had tortured, rued his vice too late. 

A fluttering shawl as signal beacon flew 

Out from an upper room. The troops broke thru 

The watchful spies, ere able to give warning. — 

The camp was raided in the early morning. 

Fernando, — still in Carmelita's room. 

Escape cut off, and with no time to groom — 

Was covered, ere he thought of drawing gun; 

The uproar having seemed but lusty fun. — 

Again George sat and brooded in despair. 

The outlaw had been caught within his lair — 

But Glorietta had conveyed the word 

That she must wed him, would not be deterred. 

Her honor pledged, she must fulfill her oath, 

Full blessed that George still lived. Tho he were loth 

To see her pay the price. Still, it must be. 

George groaned: "Good Lord, could but Fernando flee!" 

There was a swish of skirts, and by his desk 

A Spanish doiia stopped, dressed picturesque 

In veil, mantilla, gorgeous comb and fan. 

George knew her — "Carmelita." She began 

To wring her hands and weep. Then kneeling there 

Begged mercy, — that Fernando he would spare. 

"He is my light, he is my love; ah, more — 

I dare not say it. Save him, good seiior!" 

"And would he marry you, if he went free?" 

"The saints may know. I trust they'll grant my plea. 

Oh, I will pay! Is aught there, you would know? 

Mine are his secrets! Ask me! I will show!" 

And after long debates, a feverish hour, 

George held Fernando's secrets in his pow'r. 



In Pedro's home the documents were hidden 

Who stole them for his master, but unbidden 

Preserved them for his own ulterior end. 

And these the girl now vowed to apprehend. 

If what she told should stand the acid test, 

George pledged, Fernando's guilt should not be pressed. 

VIII. 

Hope in her heart, see Carmelita speed 

To gain the ransom, — with her brother plead 

To entrust the precious papers to her care 

And save his master from the legal snare. 

But Pedro scowls: "Deliver up those papers 

For which I placed my life within hell's vapors, 

Dared purgatory, and foreswore my soul? 

Begone, foul wench. You'll not get what I stole." 

The girl turns pale, and cries with flashing eye: 

"I swear by all the saints, he shall not lie 

Behind those bars and waste a happy year 

If I should tear thy heart to see him clear! 

Beware, thy sister's honor is at stake. 

Save him for me or die! you devil's snake." 

Here Pedro, threatening, raised his well-notched gun: 

"Begone! Once more. And do not walk, but run." 

The girl flew. But she flew not for the door. 

No, like a tiger-cat she leaped the floor 

And sprang upon his throat, hung there and tore, 

And screaming to the slippery ground him bore. 

He fought in fear to gain release and breath — 

His eyes stood wide, he's on the point of death! 

And then gave in, collapsed his hold, lay shrunk, 

And offered up the key that guards his bunk 

Where lay the treaffeure that had cost his pride — 

Now Carmelita's own, to turn the tide — 

To see Fernando saved, herself a bride. 

IX. 

While George still scanned the happenings of the hour 

There stood beside his desk a second flow'r. 

Another doiia, dressed in flowing veil 

That hid a face of charm, tho' somewhat pale. 

She courtesied low. He tried to read the face 

When in her voice he marked a well-known grace: 

The waiting wench! for whom he nearly swung. 

"Oh," gasped the girl, "seiior, you are so young. 

The saints be praised who spared you from the fate 

To which these brutes had doomed you in their hate. 

My gratitude to you, seiior, is great! 

Would, there were aught my feeble strength could do 

In serving you, and make the villain rue 



The day he touched his hands to me and you." 

George smiled confused; such words were hard to bear. 

He told her modestly: "Forget the share 

I took for you in yon night's weird adventure. 

In place of praise, me fears, I should have censure. 

I wish you were a fairy, 'stead of fair, 

Could force our foe to breathe some alien air. 

Oh, to be rid of him, and free to marry 

The girl he is in slavery to carry!" 

She cried in joy: "Ah, only give me leave 

To speak with him; and truly, I perceive 

How I can turn ill-fortune into good!" 

Yes, this was heavenly news, George understood. 

The meeting was arranged, and George withdrew 

That unrestrained the confab of these two. — 

The while the wily maid the pris'ner flayed 

And on his fears and superstitions played, 

And he in terror crouched, — his evil mind 

Clung fast to bribery, as will his kind. 

Then she threw down to him her trumping trick 

Which turned Fernando cold, cut to the quick. 

"Beware," she whispered, "Carmelita's fate! 

You will be father! — It's not yet too late 

To mend your evil ways, — for it is rape 

You have on her committed! But escape 

From prison, — and then marrying her, will save 

Your neck from Pedro's fury, from your grave!" 

Fernando, coward, turned a pallid white. 

"Santa Maria, save me from his sight! 

I will endow with strings of pearls thy shrine; 

I will have masses said, Virgin divine. 

Ten costly candles for each year I'll live, 

Santa Maria, if thou wilt forgive 

And save my life, and help me on my flight! 

The wrong done Carmelita I will right, 

And swear! in holy wedlock we'll unite." 

"Not quite so fast, Fernando. You're in jail! 

The surest way, so your designs won't fail, 

Is paying out the pearls and candles now. 

Santa Maria then may trust your vow. 

And it takes more to lull your jailors' mind. 

Where is this treasure then, for me to find?" 

Fernando quailed, and cowered, stormed, and swore. 

The more he raved, the more the girl forebore. 

Till he exhausted all his savage fire 

And told his secrets, as was her desire. 

Vast treasures he had buried; mines were sealed; 

Then there were deeds and bonds, he now revealed. 

Told how he robbed the dead of their estate 

As leader in a raid of ancient date. 

When all were slain, when none escaped but one: 



A colored maid, who saved her colored son, 
And hid vast wealth to send the victim's kin 
But had been silenced by dread discipline. 
Those fortunes ran into an untold sum 
The very mention would strike lawyers dumb. 
"Senor, my thanks," the woman gayly smiled. 
"If this be true, and you have not beguiled 
A silly maid just with some merry tale. 
You shall escape and wed without a fail." 
"Caramba! I am honest. Make the test!" 
And willingly the girl went on her quest. 

X 

Glorietta, home once more in Mary's love 

Told of her capture, her escape above. 

Told of her lover's rescue, of her vow. 

And moved about like stunned, a shattered bough. 

The sacrifice was made, her heart denied! 

Her soul was lost. Oh, that she could have died! 

As in a dream she left her home; and strange. 

Her lagging steps bore her within the range 

Of George's office, where she stopped and waited 

Unconscious of her doing, like one baited. 

And there she saw, — could she believe her eye? 

A Spanish maid in George's window cry. 

And wring her hands. Saw George bend very close, 

Take hold her arm, — in pleading talk engross. 

And saw, — what but a sore and fevered brain 

Conceives in wildest passion, under strain. 

Ah, he so soon forgot! Found consolation 

As swiftly? God, it seemed that all foundation 

Of justice, faith, and love were undermined. 

To see him thus, whom her love held enshrined. — 

All human nature, passions are alike 

Be black or white, or brown the heart they strike. 

Tho' yesternight she had foresworn this mate. 

To-day, and now, there battle love and hate, 

Fierce jealousy, and maddened, baffled passion; 

As ever it must be the mortal fashion. 

Her eyes bored vainly thru that granite wall 

That hid those scenes, her lover. That hid all! — 

Homeward she fled. She never noted how 

She found her couch with shamefaced tears, to vow 

That never, never could she miss his light, 

Could not endure his loss, — tho' she not white. 

Again love's struggle wounds her sobbing throat: 

To obey her sacred vow? To turn and float 

Upon the river of dishonor out. 

And law, and God, and conscience madly flout? 

She fought her grimmest fight and could not win. — 

Dark night had fallen without, dark night within; 



Out thru the blackness once again she swept 

From pillows that this eve would lie unslept. 

Out, to the peaceful road with George's home, 

Thru darkness wrestling, up and down to roam. 

But who was this that crept so stealthily near 

Thru George's gate, and hid as if in fear? 

Who could that be? She too drew close in fright 

To watch, and see what brings the boding night. 

And still another figure sped along, 

A woman this, who quickly pulled the gong 

That loudly claimed the inmates wrapt attention. 

The door swung in, — a stream of light, — no mention 

That tells the visit's object, reached the ear. 

The door swings shut, — and silence strikes at fear. — 

Oh, she must know what is this visit's game, 

For fiercer burns her jealousy. Its flame 

Will yet devour Glorietta, lest she watch 

And save her soul from the inferno's blotch. 

A shutter cracks ajar. Her roving eye 

Drinks in a scene that nothing can belie. 

The Spanish girl is showing George some papers 

That he is scanning quickly by the taper's 

Unsteady light, and nods with gracious smile. 

The woman clasps his hands. And void of wile 

She throws her arms around him with a kiss; 

And jubilant, and knowing aught amiss 

She rushes out into the threatening night 

As one of joy! — that bears for others fright. 

George starts, confounded by the lady's greeting. 

Not having dreamt this ending of their meeting, — 

And lawyers' fees, at times, are somewhat fleeting. 

To have this kiss, good many a gent would travel 

A thousand leagues! It's not for him to cavil.- 

Glorietta's heart stands still. But in the dark 

There moves a form that holds a tiny spark 

Which cautiously applied bursts into flame 

And rushes with the wind beyond reclaim. 

And while Glorietta stares transfixed with hurt — 

The miscreant flees, — the flames have gained a spurt, — 

The roof is caught, it crackles and it roars 

While George is checking off the precious scores 

Of deeds and transfers, papers valued high. 

And then he stares, — a name to make him sigh — 

His uncle's, and of Gloria, his child, 

Appearing on this last Will, never filed. 

An heiress too of all these costly lands! 

And she had perished at the bandits' hands. 

This Will set forth, that to protect her share 

The law be bound to identify the heir: 

A birthmark, showing well on Gloria's spine 

"Where strawberries and tendrils intertwine." — 



Her wealth is George's at his father's death. 

Then he made oath: "God Father, keep my breath 

To avenge the fate of this poor murdered babe. 

I swear by all — ," then like an astrolabe, 

A flaming pyre, the roof-tree's weight crashed down 

Midst blast so wild, the piercing shriek to drown 

That rose from Glorietta's blanching lips. 

Into that blaze she leaps! Despairing, grips 

With maddened hands the senseless form, felled low — 

A task that super-humans would forego — 

And saves the body from the holocaust. 

Drops it from nerveless hands, in horror lost. 

Its rigid fingers grasping still the score — 

In uncontrolled, blind jealousy she tore 

It from the guarding hands and flung it back 

Into the raging furnace of the shack. — 

And then, approaching uproar made her pause. 

And turn and hide; and flee in her own cause. 

Rush to the shelter of her foster-mother 

Whose love was hers, if there was ne'er another. 

XI. 

The Spanish dona Carmelita danced 

In glee to where her neighing broncho pranced; 

Swung into saddle graceful, girlish limbs, 

And cantered up the hills, soft singing hymns 

Of early childhood days, the padres taught her. 

Those happy years knew her as pious daughter; 

And now? Alas! — but then the dread was past, 

Fernando would be free, — she wed at last. — 

For one last look she turned, to wave farewell — 

"Santa Maria!" Had the earth born hell? 

Red was the sky, and crimson flamed the torch 

That lit the scarlet night, burst from the porch 

She just had passed with saucy, happy heart. 

Did sight deceive? Was this black Satan's art? 

Like fleeing the scourge she drove her trembling horse 

Down, down the rocky gorge, — retraced her course, — 

When thru the air came swish of snaky rope, 

A lasso snatched her to the crumbling slope. 

Her body struck, — and lost were sense and hope. — 

And Pedro stood with snarling, vile grimace 

Beside her prostrate form. At last her face 

Showed life. She glanced about in wild distress 

Beheld the evil visage, pitiless 

And wanton glower at her in his hate — 

And knows: there's mercy none, and help too late! 

He breaks the silence, dull, foreboding, dark: 

"Your game is balked. I lit yon pleasant spark. 

There burn your papers, burns your friend. Their ashes, 

Curse them! shall mix with yours!" He madly gnashes 



His foaming jaws. His eyes rove, glare deranged, 

He draws a lithe stiletto, one exchanged 

As bringing death more swiftly, silent, sure, — 

Bends low, the blade within her to immure, — 

When her hot whisper breaks his ravings wild; 

"Go, murder me; but murder not my child!" 

The madman gasps; he mutters, seeing blood: 

"My sister, you dishonored!" and a flood 

Of raging tears sweep down his livid cheek. 

"The scoundrel's name, that he may die! Up! Speak! 

I'll crush the viper's heart! His infamy paid, 

You don your winding sheet, dishonored maid. 

Enter the convent of The Sacred Heart 

To spend your days, repent your wicked part. 

I know him! 'Tis Fernando, your amour. 

He'll not escape! His walled cage is secure!" 

XH. 

The waiting wench had found a rich reward. 

Secured uncounted wealth, a Mammon's hoard; 

Had placed all, safely in a strong box vault 

That would resist an army's fierce assault. 

George being still abed and close confined, — 

She used her blandishments, resourceful mind 

And smuggled tools as needed for escape 

Into the bandit's cell, for him to shape 

A tunnel from within, while from without 

A friend gave help, disguised as harmless scout. 

She bribed the jailor with her merry smile, 

Part of her trap, Fernando to beguile 

To marry Carmelita; and sends men 

To warn her, that she seek the bandit's den 

Across the border when the signal came, — 

Invite the priest and thus be saved from shame! 

The day had dawned, George stepping from his door 

Went to the ruins of his home once more. 

Boys had been playing there to look for treasure. 

Had filled their pockets, and for goodly measure 

Discovered in the cellar's untouched hole 

Some papers, which Glorietta's brother stole. 

Whom, scamp-like, they delighted well to plague. 

They called the negro names abhorred tho' vague; 

They shouted "Friday," "Tongue-Tied," and in short 

Outlandish words that left him no retort. 

Once home, Abe found the papers fully worth 

The tantrums of the pestering children's mirth. 

Their study proved so mighty interesting 

He could not bear his mother's loud molesting 

With questions that concerned the reading matter, 

So left the house to flee her constant chatter. 

But Abe had read enough to learn the truth 



About Glorietta. And this valiant youth 

Saw clearly: all his earthly joys depend 

That Glorietta must not wed her friend 

And win her fortune, whence Abe's comfort came. 

Yet, all this wealth his chief would never claim. 

Hence she must wed Fernando, or must die! 

The documents kept hidden from her eye.- 

Thus early morn found him about the ruin 

In idle prowling like a nosing bruin. 

Torn and disheveled, when George came in sight. 

Abe shambled up, and scratched his head with might 

When George demanded, what he were about? 

He stuttered: "Done yoh member? Ah misdoubt 

An' yoh're the gent that spooned with Glorrie, say?" 

"What's that to you?" George angrily gave way. 

"Well, maybe mor'n yoh think. Ah tells yoh, mister, 

That little Glorrie kid, shoh is mah sister. 

She's black. And Ah just wants yoh shoh to know 

Yoh white folks done come round to her no moh." 

George, weak and faint, clutched at a crumbling wall, 

His brain turned numb, he reeled, would surely fall 

When pride o'ercame his shock. Without a word 

He turned his back, as if had not heard; 

And staggered homeward. Like a corpse he stalks. 

His eyes aglaze, unseeing, walks — and walks. 

Glorietta black! And still the sun did shine! 

Glorietta tainted! She, the purest shrine 

His awe-struck soul had ever dared to claim. 

Glorietta branded! And whose was the shame? 

The birds were piping, and the sky so blue — 

O God Almighty, could this be? — This true? — ~ 

World sank to nothingness; and all desire 

To live, to know — must in his heart expire. 

What matter, be he rich or be he poor, 

Glorietta not for him; he must abjure! 

Must he? — Why, God in heaven, are there not men 

Have wedded half-breeds, loved, be loved again? 

Why then not he? His father need not know; 

And with God's grace the taint might never show. 

Might! — Yes; Almighty Lord, again it might! 

Cast over all his life and hers the blight. 

The terrible shame from which there's no escape; 

"The features his, the color from the ape!" — 

Then strength flowed from the spirit of the maid! 

Who felt of love and sin so sore afraid 

That for this cause she had denied her passion 

And slew her heart in that barbaric fashion — 

When he had tempted her beyond her soul! 

Was his mind poorer steeled than her control? 

Nay, God forbid! Nay, God forfend the sin. 

They may but love and long, but ne'er be kin. 



XIII. 

A rider led his foot-sore horse by hand 

Across the desert's drifted, burning sand, 

When Pedro spied afar the sorry sight, 

And riding close inquired the traveller's plight. 

"I'm bringing word to Carmelita, boss; 

When I got stuck with this here blamed ole boss!" 

"I'll take your message, hand it over, man. 

You squat here till I'm back again, and fan. 

And here's the makings. Put your nag adrift. 

It is but fit to die,— so let her shift." 

The letter his, — he read; Fernando's flight 

Had been arranged to start before the night. 

He saw that Carmelita conned the news. 

Then called his treacherous and wanton crews 

To ride and slay the partner in his crime, — 

With furious haste to cheat the rescue time. 

The dust flew high. The scorching cavalcade 

Welcomed the jail's grim walls, as evening's shade 

And misty clouds hung 'bout the fields and town. 

They dashed up to the gate, — but it was down. 

Demanded entrance! Answered with a scowl 

They charged the fortress with a raging howl. 

They gain the top, are over, down the wall — 

Inside the court that rings with shout and ball. 

The crashing-in of door, of iron gate! 

The torch applied, — wild flames illuminate 

The gruesome battle scene where living die, 

The wounded groan, or bellow fearsome cry. 

Down the defense! The prison cells to force 

The cursing gang, blood-lusty, shrieking, hoarse, 

Crush thru the reeking halls in baffled rage: 

Fernando fled! and vacant yawns his cage.- 

A gaping hole discloses all the story. 

The furious band, black, grimy, grim, and gory 

Leap to their mounts, and drive their spurs in deep. 

The tortured horses, rearing, onward sweep 

In hot pursuit of their escaping prey! 

When the horizon's ghost holds them at bay. — 

The cavalry! and "Save us!" rends a shout 

The settling night. They scatter, turn about. 

But hotter still the Law's well-ordered arm 

Is stretching out. Then sounds the dread alarm: 

"Who not surrenders, or to flee unable — 

Must die, shot down; — and save the hangman's cable!' 

XIV. 

Fernando free! — Ah, vastly was he aided 
By the attack that held the jail invaded 
And eased the task of wily woman's tricks. 



Unhindered he had moved the heavy bricks 

And crept to light! Where he in waiting found 

The maid and steeds. They mounted, beat the ground 

As if on wing to reach a safe retreat. 

But in their wake, what ghosts ride quite as fleet? 

Tho' they had covered mile on mile of road 

What shadows cling like that? What do they bode? 

At last the alien soil is won. He's free! 

They stop undone, and wait, and watch to see 

What is the meaning of the hot pursuit — 

For clearer grow these visions, ever mute. 

XV. 

When Mary's offspring did at last decamp 

His mother found the papers 'neath his lamp. 

Adjusting her big specs with care, she read 

The strange and awful news before her spread. 

Here was the proof the bandit had obtained. 

Had kept from her, held tongue and conscience chained. 

She must return this to the hands, to-day. 

Of that young lawyer; quick, without delay. 

Her bonnet and her plaited shawl at hand 

She ventures out, who dreads the burning sand. 

When George is found, — in lethargy he listens 

To her recital. — But he starts, eye glistens 

When he beholds the package of lost pages 

Preserved miraculously. He engages 

Black Mary with such questions as make clear, 

Glorietta is the Gloria mentioned here. 

And she was white! whom Mary saved from slaughter, 

His father's dead step-brother's only daughter; 

For her was Mary's hoard, all she could hide 

Of jewels, money on that bloody ride 

When they escaped the carnage of the raid, 

And lived in far-off regions, e'er afraid 

Fernando's bloodhounds come to track her down. 

Until a year ago she moved to town 

That Glorietta come into her own. 

When she had straight into Fernando flown. 

He, fretful, to possess his booty legal 

Would force Glorietta into wedlock! — regal 

In all his splendors robbed from her, poor maiden. 

No laws could pauper him so richly laden, 

If once Glorietta were his rightful wife, 

Who faithfully, would stake him with her life. 

"That must not be! She is a high-born lady, 

An heiress, rich, whose forbears trace no shady 

Constituent as scion to their name. 

They were illustrious ere the Pilgrims came. 

Tho all be lost! we must the girl deter. 

I'll pay the forfeit with my life for her! 



But, neither Glorietta could be found 

Nor Abe, the imp, who ever prowled around. 

Then night brought tidings of the jail release. 

And rumors rose that caused their blood to freeze; 

Glorietta had been seen on horse with Abe 

Taking the trail she travelled as a babe 

Into the distant mountains of the south, 

Their horses pressed, and bleeding at the mouth. 

George vowed: "I shall pursue her to the line! 

To join Fernando, must be her design." 

And there the ride began for love and life. 

For life and love, as oft in times of strife. 

Those riders of the night, now drawing near 

The border line, and slowly growing clear. 

They were pursuer and pursued, in race. 

But who will win? — The moonlight breaks. The face 

Of this one, dashing nearest gleams in white. 

With streaming hair, Glorietta! holding tight 

The straining reins. — She crossed! — Now she may save 

Her honor; losing all, and find her grave. — 

On race the other two. It's Abe, the plotter, 

Pursued by George who drives him ever hotter. 

They're o'er the line! — And panting halt their mares. 

A motley crew, whom mocking hope ensnares. — 

Glorietta, swinging from her broncho cries: 

"I'm here to bind my oath!" — It terrifies 

Fernando's soul to hear her proud admission, 

In dread of Pedro's wrath. Thus, indecision 

Prompts hesitation, seeking of delay — 

When George's shout rings out: "Glorietta stay! 

My life is yours the forfeit to repay! 

For you are white! as lilies on the altar 

At Easter-tide, when chanting floats the psalter 

Down thru the festive, flowered, vaulted dome! 

I pay the cost. You, worshipped maid, flee home!" 

"White! — I am white? — O saints in heaven be praised! 

White have I felt at heart, tho' black I'm raised. 

Thanks, dearest fried. Naught costlier could you bring. 

Yet I have vowed! — The wedding bells must ring. 

If white, if black, our honor has one code. 

My honor, bright as steel, must not corrode. 

On, on Fernando. Hasten with your priest: 

Marry we must; my oath shall stand released." 

Proudly, and white within the silver moon 

Glorietta smiles, moon-beams her lone festoon. 

And silence falls. — Then from the desert plain 

Come sounds of lagging horse, borne to the brain 

That scarce can hold another thought, so weary. 

And spectral figures rise in moonlight. Eerie, 

Blackrobed, his visage hid and looks, 

A padre clinging to the Book of books, 



Beside a wasted horse with bleeding rider 

Is crossing towards them, a crawling spider. 

"The name of God be praised." His hollow voice 

Sounds spent and racked. "Oh, friends. I full rejoice. 

But I am done. And done, me fears, this man 

I picked up wounded, when his mount began 

To stop and paw the desert ground for drink. 

We three need help, lest into death we sink." 

And he laid down. The wounded heavily slipped, 

Rolled on the sand. — An oath bursts forth, like whipped 

From base Fernando, terrified, yet glad. 

For here lay Pedro dying, if not dead! 

His evil thought: "The dead can never kill. 

I'll hold Glorietta, if that beauty will." 

Tho' sorely tried, the lovers gently aided 

The dying. Ministered until the jaded 

And sunken, glassy eyes once more could see. • 

Now Glorietta to the priest made plea 

To marry her to him, her vow decreed. 

Relieve her heart-ache, ere they should proceed. 

The priest demurred; but finally consenting — 

Glorietta there was wedded, unrelenting. — 

The moon had paled with the advancing dawn. 

But ghastlier paled the wounded, wretched pawn 

Of jealousy and hate. Dread, live-hot coals 

His burning eyes glowed in their sunken holes; 

Flashed hatred of a dark and menaced brain, 

When breaks the seat of reasoning in twain. 

Such was the blessing he bestowed the pair 

On whom the padre poured a heavenly prayer. — 

"On with the honeymoon! On to my den. 

My safe retreat within the mountain glen." 

Fernando coarsely laughed, and led the way. 

But George would not leave Pedro. Where he lay 

He knelt, to lift with strong yet tender touch 

The dying to his horse. "Alack, how much 

Or little can be done for you, poor man, 

Whate'er it be, I'll do it while I can." 

Then walked the mount. His own bestrode the padre, — 

And all the cavalcade makes for the Sierra Madre. 

XVI. 

The weary train had gained to safety's goal. 

A hacienda looms. Oh, pleasant shoal 

Wherein dwell rest and peace, as shipwreck's danger 

Is past, the alien shores welcome the stranger. - 

Its gleaming dobe walls reflected shining 

Within a gloomy pool below, reclining 

Midst rocky gorge, down at the hill's steep base.. 

Lo! From the gate flies, bright with easy grace 

A brilliant figure, flashing colors gay, 



Waving her veil in joyous, wild display. 

Ah, — Carmelita dancing for her lover 

Whose haggard soul twixt guile and fear seeks cover. 

"Beloved," cries the radiant, dashing creature, 

"The feast is set; in waiting is the preacher, 

Mio carissimo, at last my day 

To be your wife; you mine for e'er and aye!" 

Glorietta starts; and plies the courtesan: 

"You cannot be his wife; he is my man. 

My husband wedded but the passing night. 

What dare you claim of him? Out! state your right!" 

The roses die, the bloom fades from the face 

Of Carmelita, conscious her disgrace. 

"What right have I? — By what right is he mine? 

Santa Maria! I'm his concubine! 

My child, when born, — whom wouldst thou name its sire? 

Face him: Thy villain! — Strike him, strike! hell's fire." 

Glorietta fled her horse, ran to the girl, 

Embraced her tenderly, — turned to the churl 

In dread contempt; adjured him, speaking low: 

"You fiend! brought shame to all, — me untold woe. 

Yet here is one whom you may still repay. 

Redeem this woman! — for I am away!" 

And ere their hearts could guess or comprehend 

She rushed upon the cliff, its further end 

Far hanging out above the gloomy pool — 

A leap, — a cry! — The waters lapping cool 

Their rocky rim, close still. — And just a quiver. — 

Then flooding less, still less, — a stagnant river. — 

The horror froze their blood. But ere it's spent 

A second shout! — A form leaps, doubly bent, 

Beyond the cliff into the deepening pool. 

George to the rescue! Champion of his school. — 

And Pedro's dying brain now sadly erred. 

Just one cry cleft his reason. He had heard 

His sister's cursing words: "Strike him, hell's fire!" 

And with his last breath poised for her desire; 

An aim but poor. — A gun crash! — The right hand 

Drops shattered from Fernando to the sand. 

Uncertain whence the shot, the wounded turned, 

Espied the woman he had foully spurned. 

And, crazed by pain, a bullet at her sped, 

Left-handed, vision blurred. — 'Tis Abe, falls dead! 

Who sprang to snatch Fernando's gun aside 

Just as he fired. And thus redeemed, he died. 

XVII. 

Where was the priest in all this wild affray? 
The priest, the padre? He had slunk away 
When Carmelita spoke of wedding feast. 
Of holy monk, officiating priest. 



He, with his steed, had just arrived below 

Where from the pool spurts forth a tiny flow, — 

When he beheld in air the leaping wife 

And "aeons" later George's dive for life. 

George caught his burden far from living air. 

And grasping at her garments in despair 

He held her body, tho' the finery tore 

And dragged, and swam, and gained the pebbly shore. 

Exhausted laid her down. But stress compelled 

To give the drowning aid, and he beheld 

A birthmark showing 'bout Glorietta's spine: 

"With strawberries some tendrils intertwine." — 

It was the heiress! Imprint, all was true! 

No man dare cavil, slander would eschew. 

She breathed anew, and drank the heavenly light. 

All past seemed dead. She saw two stars, all bright, 

Two stars so blue, that hung within her sky 

She could but smile, and gasp the softest sigh. — 

Then thru the caiion rang hoarse cry, and shout; 

Law officers were swarming close about. 

They swept upon the trio so forlorn. 

Laid hold the padre, now a wolf, unshorn: 

Imposter, in the garb of holy priest 

Disguised, for evil traffic with the east. 

Narcotics, opiates, and viler drugs 

He smuggled, hidden in the Book he lugs. 

The spirit of the psalmist he defiled 

With spirits that humanity reviled. — 

And she was free! — Glorietta, she was free! 

The cursed bondage broken; with no decree 

Forbidding happiness and love, or bridal; 

Her honor gleaming white, her shiniest idol. 



And they pass home. — The glorious sun arises 
With promises, the mightiest despot prizes. 
As they walk forth into the roseate morn — 
A radiant life is dawning — Love has born. 



Finis 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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